middaeg | ( OPEN ) february catch-all

[ As soon as she steps through the door, she's hard to miss. Geralt doesn't quite greet her while she makes her deliveries -- more of her homebrewed liquor, he assumes -- but when she ends up at his table with something harder than piss watered beer, he acknowledges her with a nod.

He's not keen on company, no. She's bringing liquor, though. He's willing to take company for that in exchange. Besides, Maria has never much pried in his business and that's the way he prefers his companionship. ]

True. [ He sniffs the tumbler she's brought him; the smell is sharp with a hint of sweetness, and he tosses it back without much thought beyond that. It burns nicely on the way down.

He tips the glass towards her, head tilted in question. ]

One of your concoctions?

No, just whiskey. [She shakes her head as she speaks, then lifts her own glass, and tilts the burgundy-red liquid a bit toward him, without upending the glass entirely.] And this is brandy. For all that I made those gins, my real drink of choice is brandy.

[She knocks back most of her drink in one long draught.] The gin just went best with the rose flavors, of everything I had tried. [But she also doesn't hate gin, and also it was strong either way, so who really cares?]

Is this one of your preferred bars?

[She's curious - she has her preferred dive bars, but none of them are anywhere near the docks. Who knows if this one is actually... better than it seems.]

[ His usual interest in the finer points of liquor is waylaid by his desire to just drink and not think about much at all. It looks to be an improvement over what he's had all evening, so. Good enough. ]

No. [ He glances out the window. The sea outside is only just barely visible through the grime on it, and a small spider crawls along the border's edge. ] I presumed I wouldn't find any familiar faces here.

[ He tips his glass at Maria, suggesting that she's proven his presumption wrong. Though he's not complaining. She's brought him whisky and hasn't asked how he's doing or why he looks like he hasn't slept in a few days. Acceptable company, as things go. ]

Well, if it weren't for my recent business endeavors, I would not be anywhere near here.

[She takes a sip, and keeps her expression carefully neutral. She can have a couple drinks, but really digging deep into the cups is going to bring a risk of it just all coming back up when she walks out the door and smells the sea. Most certainly if she walks anywhere near the fish markets.]

So, all things considered, you had the right idea, I think. I don't even think I'd heard of this place until I was contacted by the owner for some of the gin.

[So he's avoiding people and still looks like shit. Frankly, mood. She goes through one of those spells like once every few weeks, it seems.]

Is the beer any good? [It neither looks nor smells it, but... you know. Sometimes one is surprised.]

[ His lips quirk. It is a shithole. Geralt doesn't care much where he ends up, but he has some standards. And frankly, he's not one to be around the smell of the sea much. He's far more used to the woods and mountains. ]

It's shit. [ He refills his mug, anyway, now that her delivered shots are gone. ] Would've been better off taking a bottle into the Wilde.

[ Which he might do afterwards. A walk. Clear his head, or at least find a quiet pond to drink at until the sun went up. ]

Business going well?

Well, sometimes you can be surprised, but I guess this place doesn't look like the kind of place you'd go to get a fine wine.

[She's out, so she sits back. It's fine like this anyway. Her head tilts a little as she thinks about his question.] For a small venture that is basically just selling off the excess of what I won't drink personally? Yes. I'm surprised how much just saying you're a Mirrorbound makes some of the businesses want to do business with you.

And those that don't... [She waves a hand. It's no skin off her back.]

[ Mm. No fine wines here, unfortunately. Though he could use one tonight. He's certain Yennefer has several in the cabinet at home. ]

Shame it doesn't work that way at home for a Witcher.

[ She's not wrong, though; he's noticed that, too, even despite the wariness he's faced as a Turnskin—especially close to the full moons. For the most part, the witches he's solicited have been happy to accept his wolf's teeth for their potions with few questions.

He supposes Mirrorbound are good for business. They all arrive with nothing, after all, except a handful of belongings. Shit, he's even bought furniture. With Yennefer, but still. He doesn't think he's ever so much as bought a fucking stool in his life until now. ]

[Maria had to help furnish a gigantic house, she knows that feeling.

That said, what she can latch onto is the idea of a Witcher. Can't say she's ever heard of one before.] Mm, you know, I did not ask much before. What is a Witcher? I imagine it's a bit what it sounds like? [She can figure it's something to dow ith hunting witches, or something similar.]

We were made to kill monsters. Like the Cwyldtid.

[ Some clarification is required, considering there are monsters and then there are Monsters in this world.

Though the irony of what he's become isn't lost on him. Still. It's not as if he'd started especially human, anyway, nor did he ever pass as one back home. ]

Not many of us left.

I see. The... function sounds a bit like a Hunter. Or at least... the original idea of them, back when I was still active: Kill the bloodthirsty Beasts that were a threat to the population.

[She's not a Monster, but she sure gets confused for one a lot. Another drink is starting to sound good, actually.]

Well, or to escort the scholars into the catacombs and deal with what was in there, as well. We did a lot of that, too. Do you want another shot?

[ He raises an eyebrow. In some ways, he can't say it's a surprise to hear her profession back home isn't unlike his. ]

Original idea? [ He doesn't clarify, that it's never been much about threats to the population. The wars humans wage across kingdoms have created more corpses than any monster. ]

Mm. [ He slides the empty glass to the side. ] Won't turn one down.

Whiskey fine? [She asks this as she gets up, and if he doesn't ask for anything else, she just gets that, and another glass of brandy for herself. This one she has filled... a little further than the others. Once she sits again, she talks.]

Once the Healing Church really gained its foothold in the town, things became infinitely more complicated for what it meant by a Hunt. It went from Beasts, to people who were showing signs, to people who could potentially have contracted it. By then I had retired, but I still lived in Yharnam, and I still had to see it happen.

[She does take a sip, letting the liquid burn down her throat, before sitting back a little.] ... I guess it didn't matter, in the end. The Scourge took the town entirely, according to the Hunter that was there to watch Yharnam's fall.

[ He's past the point of being picky, so Geralt accepts whatever she hands him with a grunt. It's filled, which is all he cares about.

Besides, he's more distracted by her story. Not an especially unpredictable one. Even in this city, he can see shadows of the same rising. The way the townsfolk carefully avoid any talk of the Outer City.

In the end, people always cause more destruction than the thing they feared. ]

You grew up there?

Mm, not quite. I grew up in Cainhurst Castle, but Yharnam was an old holding of the castle that grew into its own town once... nobility began to stop meaning much.

[She takes a sip of the brandy, and swirls the glass a little.] But after training as a knight for a few years, I decided to leave Cainhurst and go to college in Byrgenwerth, which was attached to the city, in a manner of speaking. I spent the rest of my time in Yharnam from there. Enough to see the rise of the Healing Church.

[Another sip.] Saw a memory from one of the hunters that lived in Yharnam long after I did. Got to see the town decaying back to nothing. Can't say I was surprised.

[ Ah. His eyebrow lifts. ] You were knighted.

[ Rare, for a woman—though at the same time, he can't be too surprised, from what he's learned of her. He wonders what it's like, to go from one world fallen to an infection that gives birth to beasts to yet another that does the same.

He turns the glass in his hands. ]

Every time a plague or a beast tears through the Continent, kingdoms seal off entire villages and leave them to rot. [ He tips back his drink. ] Eventually, it eats through the nobility, too.

Yes. Hunters in Cainhurst were Knights. After I left, I was back to being merely a Hunter.

[She swirls her glass again, then takes another deep drink. When she puts it back down, she has a bit of a pensive look on her face.] I suppose it both was and wasn't like that. Cainhurst blood didn't frequently create Beasts; it was the low-quality, diluted stuff from the Church that was most dangerous.

But it wouldn't have mattered.

Different than our knights, then.

[ No. It doesn't ever matter. There's a reason he tends not to look back. Cities fall; they rise again, one way or another. And humans will always be around in some form. ]

The corruption on this sphere. Are there similarities?

[ It's not his job to solve the Cwyld, beyond what related contracts are posted for assistance -- it'll still be here, he thinks, long after he's gone -- but he's been curious enough to keep an eye on what people know. ]

Mmm... yes. Beasthood does not kill a person that becomes a Beast, but they're never able to return to their previous life. So in many ways, they become like a Shade - aggressive, unable to think of anything but attacking and killing, unrecognizable from the person they used to be. The Cwyld is a bit more... obvious of a source of corruption than what happened back at home, though. I was going to say 'they don't worship the Cwyld here like they do the Blood at home', but apparently that was a lie for a small group of people.

[She huffs, and it's derisive - clearly she doesn't approve of doing something like that either way.]

[ He considers her words for a moment, though she distracts him soon enough with another topic. There's an equally derisive snort in return. In a way, he's almost surprised it took that long for something like the Circle to emerge -- a mixture of those wanting to harness the Cwyld's power and a thirst to learn of it at all costs.

He doesn't give a fuck what people worship. But they could've left everyone else out of their bullshit. ]

We'll see how long they stay down this time.

[ Most have been captured or killed, but ideals are not so easily swept away. Especially not with the head of the cult still out there. ]

( OPEN ) february catch-all

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